Round 30

The tower's magic breathes with deliberate hunger, each pulse a reminder that they're trespassing in something's dining room. The ground shifts beneath them—not random decay but calculated movement.

"Stop mapping the damage," Jeane snaps at Halie, her voice tight with urgency. "We don't need to know which stones shift—we need to know what's feeding them." Her wings half-spread for balance as she scans the crumbling stone facade. The structure pulses around them, rhythmic and deliberate—breathing.

Halie stands near the base, her expression grim. The stonework pulses again, slower this time. "Merrin, Varrika," she calls out to the unseen companions, "mark every stone that shifts or changes temperature. We're past stealth." Her hand grips her holy symbol tightly. "Jeane, if you're going to scout the roof access, do it without drawing attention."

The wards are not passive defenses; they're active predators. The ground settles with a sound that feels deliberate rather than random decay. The structure breathes, feeds on something inside. Fifteen minutes remain before it decides whether to welcome visitors or... something else.

Jeane moves forward, her wings half-spread for balance, eyes scanning the crumbling stone. "The stone tastes wrong—predatory, hungry in a way that has nothing to do with age or decay," she mutters, more to herself than Halie. "Whatever's feeding these wards isn't some ancient spell left dormant; something active is keeping this tower alive and waiting."

Halie's voice cuts through the oppressive silence. "I've seen this before—the pulse goes still when they're aware. We have maybe two minutes before whatever's upstairs decides we're worth the trouble." She moves toward the facade, her expression showing apprehension mixed with grim determination.